


In for a Penny

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Affection, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Friendship, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 15:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8106922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: This short follows my longer by only me is your doing,my darling. It can be read as one-off, but you may enjoy that story if you're into queered Alpha/Omega relationships. (Or if you prefer your A/O with porn and D/s).I wasn't quite sure how to tag this, but I see it as a building asexual relationship story and a story about how queerplatonic relationships can develop without the precise language of asexuality. I was also interested to explore physical affection and Alpha instincts in a non-sexual relationship. More notes and thoughts on my headcanon for these two in the end notes.





	

For the first few months of their friendship, it’s fairly clear to John where he stands. In a lot of ways, it makes it easier to live with an Alpha, knowing that Sherlock's just not particularly into “Alpha/Omega activities” as he’d primly described them that first night at Angelo’s. John had meant it then when he said that it was “all fine.” He couldn’t quite imagine being in a relationship with the Alpha he’d just met and was now chasing after a murderer with, and it made this whole flatshare situation much less complicated. Now, though, he’s feeling less certain.

After Sherlock’s clear agitation over the scene at Mycroft’s flat, John had offered whisky, and Sherlock had uncharacteristically taken him up on it. The man is obviously much more relaxed now, sprawled loose-limbed next to John on the sofa, but he’s also being far more affectionate than is his norm, touching John casually as their conversation meanders in that tipsy way among seemingly unrelated topics. John’s never liked Alphas who presume the right to touch him, but he finds that he doesn’t mind, with Sherlock. Sherlock never abuses his command with John, never underestimates him. The touch is almost… nice. It feels less presumptuous and more like Sherlock simply desires touch, like his inhibitions are lowered just enough to do it without conscious thought. Once John’s sipped enough whisky, it takes him a moment to actually focus on Sherlock’s words.

“…hardly surprising. Biologically speaking, it’s an imperative. But I’ve never felt this way with other Omegas."

“Never felt… I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” John asks, putting his glass down to concentrate on this thread. It feels important.

“You, John,” Sherlock declares impatiently, pointing with a finger that gently stabs the center of John’s chest. “I’m not supposed to feel this way."

“You’re… not?” John wonders if they’re talking about the same thing, and feels a low burn in his belly that isn’t the alcohol. Sherlock’s really, really not his type, but he’s somehow intrigued.

“I never do,” Sherlock argues. “The idea of sharing a heat is…” He pulls a comical face, and John giggles in spite of himself. Sherlock returns it with a warm smile, leaning in slightly and brushing his hand all-too intimately against John’s cheek. “But you… I like the way you smell,” he confesses, low and intimate.

John inhales sharply. “You… I do, too,” he admits. “Like the way you smell. A bit.” He flushes, and Sherlock appears almost uncertain, a foreign look on him.

“Could I… I don’t want sex,” he clarifies quickly. “But could I touch you?” He’s slurring his words just slightly, and John should say no. He nods, instead, and Sherlock scoots closer on the sofa. He doesn’t loom like some arrogant Alpha (an arrogance John will only admit under duress to actually enjoying in heat), but snuggles awkwardly up to John’s body, his limbs curling in as he fits his nose to the crook of John’s neck and inhales. His right hand strokes over John’s chest, petting his jumper. John laughs a little, warmly, and reaches up to stroke Sherlock’s hair.

“I think… the angles are all wrong,” he points out. “If you want a snuggle, let me—“ John shifts, lying back, and tugs Sherlock with him to stretch out on the sofa. Sherlock looks startled by the feeling of his body pressed along the length of John’s, but then he relaxes into it, legs tangling with John’s, cheek rubbing along John’s scent glands like a cat. John smiles fondly and scratches at his scalp until he makes a sound almost like a purr. He doesn’t dare to move and break this unusual moment that he can’t quite quantify for himself, so he lets calm settle over him as his hand and his breathing slow, the haze of sleep blanketing them like a slow-moving fog.

~*~

“I never thought I’d say this about Sherlock… but I think he’s sweet on you,” Greg Lestrade declares,  twisting his beer bottle absently in his hands. John raises his eyebrows.

“What? No, I mean seriously—what?"

“You haven’t noticed how he is with you? It’s definitely different from other Omegas. Other _people_.”

“Sure. But he’s not… _sweet_ on me.” John rolls his eyes. “Not by a mile. Sherlock doesn’t do romance. He made that perfectly clear before he was willing to even consider living with me.”

“Maybe not,” Lestrade agrees. “I’m not saying I expect a personality change, just… he’s become more protective towards you. I notice these things.” He shoots John a wide grin. “I _am_  a detective, no matter what his nibs would have you believe.” 

John laughs. He certainly knows it. Greg has a way about him—quiet, but attentive. “You may not be _entirely_  wrong,” he admits, under the influence of two and a half pints so far. “But he doesn’t want a relationship. He just…well, he’s still an Alpha, right, under it all? Uh… sorry.” 

Greg snorts. “If I found that offensive, I’d have wilted completely by now, John. I am aware that I’m a total anomaly in this world.”

“Right. Well… Alpha instincts. Maybe he thinks of me as his, even if he doesn’t think of me as his… anything in particular.” John can’t help but feel a warm pleasure in his chest at the thought. He really should get out more, if that’s how he’s feeling about belonging to a man who actually keeps human heads in the icebox. Still, the recent increase in physical affection, the silent permission to scent and touch in times of need, have shifted his understanding of what’s what when it comes to his best friend.

“You may be right,” Greg concedes. “I’m not saying surprise him with a snog, just…try not to hurt him. I think even without the sex, it may mean more to him than you realize. _You_  may mean more to him than you realize.” 

“Sappy drunk,” John accuses, but the thought stays with him well past the hangover.

~*~

After the pool, he knows. Really, anyone within smelling distance would know, the way Sherlock’s hackles are up as he chivvies John into a cab and actually allows _Mycroft’s_ people to deal with the cleanup. He’s all Alpha bluster and posturing, but John sees the scared young man behind the wild eyes, and coos to Sherlock as he takes the gun from him and tucks it into his trousers before sliding into the cab and letting himself be tucked up under Sherlock’s arm.

“Deep breaths, love. You’re starting to sound a bit crazed,” John coaxes, resting a palm on Sherlock’s chest to feel its rise and fall.

“Yes, well you did nearly _die_  tonight,” Sherlock growls, holding John tightly and only marginally calming his breathing. “The game wasn’t supposed to come to this. He wasn’t supposed to get to _you_.” 

“Yeah, but I survived. I can take care of myself, Sherlock.” 

“I _know_  that. Of course I know that,” he bites out, but the tension is evident in his words. The man knows it, the Alpha remains unconvinced. Acting on instinct, John switches tactics and grabs Sherlock tightly by the hair. Sherlock jerks, then keens when John shoves Sherlock's face against scent gland. In the rearview mirror, John’s glare dares the cabbie to say anything. Sure enough, Sherlock’s breathing begins to slow, his body begins to relax as he breathes deeply of John’s familiar Omega scent. John, too, feels a swell in his chest at his ability to soothe and care for his Alpha. _His Alpha_. He probably shouldn’t think too much about that one. He doesn’t think he wants a sexual or romantic relationship with Sherlock. And yet...

“Mine,” Sherlock whispers against the fragile skin behind his ear, nuzzling his pulse point. John finds that he’s not all that bothered to affirm it, to whisper a steady “yours” in reply as they finally pull up to the flat. _Home. Nest._  He tugs Sherlock out of the cab, pays the driver, and only just restrains himself from breaking into a run. Right now, he’s where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure Sherlock here identifies as asexual or has that language, but he definitely is for all intents and purposes. I see this as a start to a primary relationship that may or may not be exclusive and may or may not be aromantic. I think John experiences some sexual and/or romantic attraction to Sherlock, but slots in with him in a different way in practice and respects his boundaries. Sherlock does have Alpha instincts towards John as his mate, but without needing to physically consummate that bond or really giving a rat's arse what anyone else thinks. I may write more of this if the mood strikes.


End file.
